


The Glass Box

by mychemicallyimbalancedromance



Series: Every Villain Thinks They Are A Hero [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eurus’s first few days at sherringford, Mental Breakdown, more than a bit, mycroft is a bit of a dick, not sure if i got the ages right, sad stuff about eurus, sherlock is mentioned, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 10:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17958866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychemicallyimbalancedromance/pseuds/mychemicallyimbalancedromance
Summary: Eurus coming to terms with the fact that she’s been put in a high-security insane asylum.





	The Glass Box

I’m not insane.  
Many people disagree with me, starting with my uncle. He tried to put it mildly, “too smart for your own good,” but he and I both know exactly what he meant.  
And I’m not.  
Insane people don’t know what they’re doing; I knew exactly what I was doing. I lashed out and it felt amazing. It felt wonderful, it felt like I was finally in control and now...look where it got me.  
“I’m not insane,” I mutter to myself. Better to keep talking. That’s what Mum always says: “When you feel alone, just keep talking to yourself, don’t let yourself sit in silence.”  
Mum’s not here.  
“I’m not insane!” I scream out into the glass room. No one answers.  
Insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.  
God, they’re so stupid.  
The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I can accept.  
Mum and Dad and Mycroft and Sherlock and all of them! The whole world! So stupid!!!  
I became insane, with intervals of horrible sanity.  
I wish they were here.  
None of them could keep up with my brain, my goddamned brain working so fast, but at least they were there. They helped keep the silence away. In the silence, the voices in my head start up and I can’t let them. I can’t go insane, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-  
He should’ve killed me.  
They were considering it, I know they were, they could kill me so easily and call it a tragic accident. But they won’t. Because to them, this is better.  
Idiots.  
This isn’t better, in what world is this possibly better?! They’ve left me ALONE! Alone with all the voices in my head and all of them will start screaming and talking and whispering and telling me things that I don’t want to hear and I can’t be by myself.  
They’ve stuck me into a glass box. They called it a cell, a room (minus the padded walls), but anyone can plainly see what it actually is - a box. What is a box? It’s a display case, a spot to put the belongings that you can’t use but that you want to brag about and be proud of. That’s exactly what I am. I’m sure he’ll talk about me in his government meetings. He’ll brag about what he did with his oh-so-smart sister, brag about my intelligence, I’m smarter than him, so he wants to display in this box, this goddamn box.  
The floor and ceiling and walls are all white. They’ve tried to hide the cameras, but apparently they forgot just how smart I am. Too smart for my own good.  
So much white. Even the dress they’ve put me in is white, I hate dresses, I hate white, the last time I wore a dress I was three years old, Mum made me, where’s Mum, where is she, why didn’t she help me, she said she loved me, why did I believe her? I can’t recall…why did I ever believe any of them when they said I was their darling girl, that I was their precious child, that they loved me no matter what I did?  
The second I lost control, the second I let them sneak a glimpse into the terrifying world inside my head...they put me in a box. I’m sure they’ve forgotten all about me by now. They’re probably celebrating already, their new youngest child - not quite normal, but normal enough, oh, he’s so clever, he’s such a smart kid, he’ll probably be in politics when he grows up, and it’s all lies and fodder and so much shit.  
Mum didn’t like me swearing. (She didn’t like me slitting my wrists either. I don’t understand why. I just wanted to see how they worked.)  
Mum’s not here.  
Humans are so stupid, they thought they could just put me in a box and be rid of me and that I would do nothing, that I would just sit here, FUCK THEM.  
“My name is Elizabeth Eurus Holmes.” My voice breaks. It sounds like I might cry, which I won’t, of course, because I’m not human. Not anymore. Only humans cry.  
I wish I could cry.  
“I’m ten years old.” Goddamn them. They’ll see what I can do. They’ll see how smart I am. I’ll make them pay.  
I look directly into a camera. They want me to be insane, they want to see a scary little horror-movie psychopath, well, fine. I make my voice go smooth and melodic. “And I’m going to rip your stomach out through your throat.”  
There’s scuffling behind the door now. A faint smile touches my lips. So nice to see humans afraid of me. “I’m going to take a knitting hook…” I get up, slowly, letting the dress hang loose around my legs. “...and shove it down your throat. I might have to remove your teeth first…” The shuffling’s getting louder and I let myself grin. “...but that won’t be a problem, will it?” Now I’m standing up straight. I can see my reflection in the glass in front of me. Messy brown hair. White dress. Crazy grin. I look insane.  
I’m not insane. Have to keep reminding myself. Not insane, not insane, not in-  
The door opens and Mycroft walks in. He’s got his suit on. I almost want to laugh. He looks like a proper bank employee in that thing. How old is he now? Eighteen? Come to visit his little psychopathic sister, his burden, his secret, his minotaur beneath his shining castle.  
Even he looks scared.  
You told me humans are like goldfish, Mike. You said we live in a world full of goldfish. And now you’re one of them.  
The grin slides off my face and, in a fraction of a second, I’m there, pounding on the glass, screaming, screaming my head off, the dress is tangled up now, there are alarms blaring or is that just in my head, I’m on the floor, I’m still screaming, the hair’s in my face, and the voices are yelling, and he looks sorry, he looks pathetic, he looks sad.  
I take gasping breaths and lie there, on the floor, looking up at him. He shouldn’t feel sorry for me, I’m not the stupid one.  
I scramble up and catch my breath and face him. Good thing I can’t feel fear. I clear my throat. “So you put me in a box. Congratulations. Uncle Ruby must be so proud.”  
He has hands in his pockets and he looks at the ground before answering, pretends that he’s embarrassed. “I’m sorry...about all of this.”  
“Don’t be. I’m going to get out. We both know it.”  
He chuckles. God, that’s an awful sound. “Not this time.”  
I can feel myself sinking, sinking into this terrible world with its stupid people and its Mike and its Sherlock and all of it and I want to scream again.  
He looks at me again and his voice is smooth and reasonable. If I could, I’d stab him in the throat. “You know...you don’t have to stay in here with nothing to do. I could get you something. A...treat, if you will.”  
He’s enjoying this so much. Finally, finally he’s the smarter one, he has me in a trap, he can do what he wants, well, fuck you, Mike. Fuck you and your secrets and your government and your smile, fuck you. I scoff. “I’m not a dog. I don’t want treats. I want to kill you. I want your insides smeared across a bloody canvas. I want to get out of here. I want…” I don’t know what I want. “I want to be normal…” The last words come out in barely a whisper and I feel so empty after I say them. There’s really no hope for me, is there? Even if I get out. Where can I go?  
“Me too.” He turns around and starts to head out and I take a step forward, before I can think about it because I can’t be here, I can’t be here by myself, he has to stay, he has to-  
“Mike?”  
He turns back around, his smile full of surprise and some amusement and I want to kill myself for putting that smile there. “Yes?”  
“...could I have my violin?”  
He nods and leaves. The door clicks in place behind him.  
I wish I could cry. I can’t, of course.  
But I can play.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short piece I wrote...while having a bit of a mental breakdown, so, sorry if some of the writing is run-on or doesn’t make sense, I wasn’t in the best state of mind. Hence, Eurus!  
> I promise I’ll update my other fanfic soon, for those of you wondering, I just really needed a distraction, so I thought I’d write something else.  
> This is my first work in the Sherlock fandom, so I really hope I didn’t screw up too badly, since it is one of my favorites and I love it (and Eurus) with all of my heart.  
> Please let me know if you liked, what I can improve on, and whether I should do more Sherlock shtuff in the future! Thank you for reading!


End file.
